Holiday in Cambodia. A trip to the great Angkor Wat

So, most people I know would recommend against taking a two year old to Cambodia. Aside from all the weird diseases -most of them involving something called a stomach fluke, which swims up you but won't swim out..., Cambodia's notoriously corrupt government with a taste for violence and the amount of weirdos, who visit from the west for illegal purposes, I was a bit scared. Okay, fairly paranoid..but I figured, if not now, then when....

So, off we went on our month's tour of Asia, I had packed not only enough food for the child to survive on, during our entire stay in Cambodia but a whole closet of medicines I had never heard of...including a plug-in insect repellant (I could have done with that growing up in pre-climate controlled florida!), and lots of things called anti-fungal creme, anti-inflammatory fungal creme and anti-insecticide viral anti-fungal inflammation creme. I also packed a wonderful anti-mosquito spray called 'Off' with Deet -with which, we smoothered ourselves my entire childhood in Florida but it mysteriously seems to have become illegal in the west since then. Something about nucleur fusion and unwanted excess toes...Obviously, that didn't stop them from making it available to the masses in Hong Kong as well as Cambodia.





However, when our plane arrives in the new Siem Reap airport, which is one of the most charming one-room airports I've ever seen, designed in the traditional Khmer style..I think, let's see, let's see what's on the other side of the world. A cabbie picks us up and is incredibly chatty. At one point, he asks our first names and foolishly we respond. This is against my better judgement, but I figure we'll never see the guy again. However,as we end our journey, we start to get the old rub-down about how hard it is for cabbies and they need money,etc. My husband has read in the guide book that a cabbie in Siem Reap makes more than the average Cambodian's month salary on average in half a week and they are NOTORIOUS for giving tourists aggressive sob stories. Being a jaded big city kid, I am pretty easy at throwing this back at people in an equally sweet way...but when we enter the hotel and he starts demanding our schedule, then keeps hanging around the hotel and the final straw, which filled my soul with fear, was his waiting for one of the lobby clerks to take my childs photo with his mobile phone. Suddenly, I was riding the wave of hormonal fear all mom's have: why did I take my kid here, why did we give him so much information, do you think he could pay off the clerks, what is this place really?

Sadly, in a place like Cambodia, these aren't overreactions. Cambodia has not only a highly corrupt government but a huge problem with child related crime.

On the other hand, everyone in our hotel is incredibly nice and friendly and they all seem to think we are traveling with a celebrity, which is how they treat all babies, but especially white babies. I did relax as I realized that this is how Asians are with children. At first, one tries to be nice (as I always try to remember as a traveller you are an ambassador of your country. How I am is how they may think all Americans are...how many Americans are they meeting here?), but it does get tiresome...people keep trying to walk off with your child in the restaurant, pinching the child's arms, taking phone photos of the child. At the beginning of the trip, she didn't know how to say her name or age, but she knew by the second week because you just get used to everyone asking...


Also, we had arrived shortly after the 'Khmer New Year' Water festival and to the Khmer, who are incredibly superstitious, touching a baby - especially a white baby is good luck in the new year. I mention the white baby, because one thinks 'how sad, your babies are so lovely- reclaim your own culture'...but I begin to understand the white skin symbolizes beauty not only because it may be of what is currently the dominant culture...but because it symbolizes a culture with widespread healthcare, relative equal rights, stable (relatively) uncorrupt governments and economic prosperity.

The other funny thing that happens, is that at the beginning of the trip, one thinks: how am I going to teach my child not to trust strangers...when they keep coming up to her, giving her candy, etc. but after a while...so many people didn't really care about if she was interested or not, it was just 'hey, baby, you look at me!' or 'hello, little baby, hello, you take my hand' and after a while, my child's response was 'I don't know you/ you don't own me' attitude. Sadly, I think the lack of interest in what the child's reaction- I suppose, the objectification of her...is a sad reflection on the lack of individual rights in so many Asian countries today.

Anyway, back to my tales...thank Goodness, we never saw the cabdriver again. Our hotel, Le Meridien Angkor was absolute luxury. It may be one of the most luxurious hotels in which I've stayed. Sitting out by the pool at dusk, as the attendant took our drinks, I noticed that everyone else seemed to be French and I do sort of wonder, if this is what it's like in all those French African Colonies in which they holiday. Cote D'Ivoire, Senegal & Sierra Leone all have compounds set up for tourists or French Expats, and they have a very luxurious life but never 'mix with the locals' since it can be dangerous and the same with all the wildlife and insects...much like the jungles of Angkor Wat used to be quite dangerous.

It is only in this moment, that I realize Cambodia is the first really third world country I've visited. Locals work in this hotel. They can not afford to stay in it...even in Vietnam, Thailand, Morrocco, there are always locals with money, who come back and can afford the hotels..but not here. There is a distinctive class system. Three classes: Cambodians, Cambodian government officials, and foreigners.

The next morning we woke up and had a lovely (real western-style) brunch. After I grab our bag of old toys and clothes, which we give to one of the five orphanages in town. Americans, French, Belgians, Germans and Dutch each sponsor one. There is also one, which Mother Theresa sponsored somewhere outside of Angkor Wat. I'd really recommend doing this for any traveller. Giving your clothes to the local thrift shop, just helps them pay the people, who work there..but in this case, you're making a direct difference on a grass roots level.

Unfortunately, by noon, the weather is absolutely MELTING. I have never experienced anything this hot in my whole life in Florida or our other trips throughout Asia or Africa! MELTING! So, we attempt to have lunch. We chose our restaurant, Champneys, because it had fans and foreigners. For $5 at Champneys, you can have a delicious lunch and a drink and it seems to be one of the best gigs in town.

After tuk-tuking it back to our hotel, we sign up for an afternoon tour of Angkor Wat complex with a sunset on --, which seems to be the typical tourist program. I was so hot, that I had to break into the gingerbiscuits, we'd bought to keep the baby from getting dehydrated. The baby, despite being in Deat sprayed footed onesy (as I was notified, it'd keep away malaria and heat stroke) has turned the color of a small beat but miraculously has slept through most of the tour - despite being in my husband's back babycarrier!

There are thousand of Cambodians thronged around Angkor Wat. It is a national holiday and they often come here for picnics and even, worship. Angkor Wat is still considered a working temple...which is interesting, since as one walks through, one sees that it has the icons of a pantheon of Gods, from which to choose.






First there were lots of Male Gods, who seemed to require a lot of dancing. Then there were some Gods, who were into cows and hunting...then came all of the Hindu Gods and as if it weren't full enough already, Buddha is still in residence. Actually, from what I understand there are Hindus, who also worship here...but the Budhists are fairly dominant and have even started building adjacent wats for specialty prayers.




Angkor Wat itself is indeed one of the wonders of the world. You just don't realize how strange and overwhelming it is until you stand in front of it.



Built under King Suryavarman II in the early 12th century, it was only ever used as a temple complex. There are four beautiful libraries in the main complex, a man-made reflecting pool, interior irrigations systems and many many very small steps. The small steps are theme throughout Asian (particularly Budhist) Temples, to remind one that the path to heaven is not easy. Using the irrigation and an extended hallway system, the interior of the complex is kept surprisingly cool compared to the scorching exterior. Cambodians like the Thai are originally descended from India and Angkor Wat's complex is very similar to Indian architecture. Some architects say it is influenced by the temples of Tamil Nadu, India. There is also a impressive man-made lake which surrounds the complex in a perfect square, which one can only see from very high points. Much like the pyramids of Giza, all of Angkor Wat and the surrounding temple complexes were built by hand. Our Cambodian tour guide mentions that there was 'a little' slave labour from conquered neighboring nations, there were many Cambodians, who 'voluntarily' worked on the building of Angkor Wat. Hmmm, voluntarily carrying large slabs of rock in the sheltering heat for 8-12 hours a day...

He also notifies us that the French act like they 'discovered' Angkor Wat but the Cambodians always knew it was there. I remember the story of the Winged Victory almost being thrown from the Isle of Samothrace and the Viscount deMarcellus buying it for the equivalent of $24, but choose not to share this story or the query of what would have happened to the Marbles with out Lord Elgin. After all, I don't have a colonialist history, I'm just a objective observer. Our guide is however, very nice and has an easy and friendly laugh. He is also wearing jeans, but I am glad to say he did atleast perspire a small amount during our walk!


In Medieval times, the entire Angkor Park area is estimated to have been roughly the size of modern day Los Angeles...except that a large amount of that area is now re-grown jungle, much of it purposely rebuilt by the Japanese to protect the World Heritage Site's environment.

It's like walking through some sort of lego set labyrinth...a set within a set within a set. There are so many inner sanctums and then suddenly you're at the back of everything and have to walk back around....and it's only during that long walk that one realizes just how LARGE this place is!


As we pass the coconut salesmen and the kids diving into the moat, we are accosted by what seems like the rest of the cambodian population harrassing us to buy maps, dodgy bottled water, bananas and postcards. We get into the car ---ahhh AIR CONDITIONING ---only to find out that we are now heading to 'the hard part': a climb up -- to see the aerial view from Phnom Bakheng, another temple in the park.

I look over and my husband, who is now redder than a ripe tomato, is adjusting the babycarrier onto his back and preparing for the long haul...and in this heat, it is a long haul. We pass the protectorate lion sculptures and wind our way up through what appears to be re-growing tropical jungle. I am surprised how many of these plants grow in Florida. When we finally make it to the top...we see awaiting us....more very very steep stairs. At this point, I turn to say 'Shall I just go and take photos so you can see?' but am happily surprised to hear my husband, true blue stiff-upper lip Englishman say,'well, we've come this far...I'm not stopping now' Despite the fact that he is drenched in sweat, beatred and carrying a toddler on his back.

Here's a picture of the view, I'm not sure if it was worth it...but once you finally get to Angkor Wat, it's so overwhelming you don't want to leave. You want to take in as much as you can and I think that's the real reason we climbed up the hill rather than head back to the hotel. The steps going downhill are so incredibly steep, I find myself proudly yelling 'that's MY husband' as people actually start taking pictures of my husband and the baby, because they've never seen anyone with a babycarrier hike up and down Phnom Bakheng.

Thank goodness, there are elephant rides to take you downhill and a very polite elephant accomodates our two-year old by taking the bananas she's offered and then subtly sweeping them underfoot rather than eating them (probably I suppose because tourists have paid all day to give her bananas).

Day Two: Angkor Tom and Bayon Temple.

What a beautiful day. The wind whips through the back of our tuk-tuk. One can actually hire bikes, taxis, hiking tours and in some areas elephants to see Angkor Wat complex but I adore the tuk-tuk ride on the ancient uncrowded boulevards. Our tuk-tuk driver has to make a quick stop for petrol, before we go inside and here's a photo of a Cambodian style petrol station. You may notice that it looks more like a corner hotdog stand but those bottles of Jim Bean and Johnny Walker are actually full of petrol. It is so expensive compared to what Cambodians earn that it is sold by the litre (literally).




As we whizz pass a monk-tuk, we begin to see the huge heads awaiting us at Bayonne Temple..



No one knows, who the head is actually of...some say, it has the third eye and elongated earlobes of the Buddh. Some say, it shows the representation of the many heads of Brahma and there are some, who believe it is actually a a depiction of Jayavarman VII, since he was the rather ego-maniacal dictator self declared 'God-King' (oh, but weren't they all), who created the complex.








The outer wall of the complex is full of amazing detailed bass reliefs, retelling tales of daily life, the afterlife and the many victorious battles of the Khmer.





We also see the occasional Apsara dancer sculpture or fresco but most of the reliefs in Angkor Tom are tributary rather than decorative and one gets a strange sense of ...darkness and power and one feels like this is where 'The Man Who Would be King' was written.





It is odd, walking around..one feels someone's always got an eye on you...




As the temperature starts to climb (it is now 11 a.m.), we hop in the tuk-tuk and take a turn around the temple complex, whizzing past the old as well as the new temples, and all of the tourist shacks that have popped up.

Finally, we come to my favorite part of the trip, for which I've been waiting. Ta Phrom or the ruins there-of. Ta Phrom is the one temple that everyone has agreed to let go, so that people can see how it used to look as ruins but also what would happen if it weren't for all the conservation...and it appeals to me, greatly. There's something of the whole Victorian-Romantic ruins in the jungle thing, it has going for it..that makes one wonder what it must have been like for French Explorer Henri Mouhot to discover the area or all the boughts with malaria, jungle rats, snakes, hostile locals, ancient curses that anyone visiting before our sterilized age of technology and air travel, when he wrote:

One of these temples—a rival to that of Solomon, and erected by some ancient Michelangelo —might take an honourable place beside our most beautiful buildings. It is grander than anything left to us by Greece or Rome, and presents a sad contrast to the state of barbarism in which the nation is now plunged."

Hong Kong Phu-EEEE

Well, what is there to say about Hong Kong that you haven't heard? THE TRUTH.

Everyone knows that Hong Kong is this big exciting business city, full of neon lights and bustling crowds:a place where fortunes are made but ancient families are still revered, a slightly Anglo post-colonial, New York of Asia, if you will....

However, what you may not know is that there is nothing cultural or historical from the colonial era left to see. There are a lot of five-star hotels that remind me of Wall Street in the 80's. One can imagine Gordon Gekko staying there. The financial district or 'Central District' is a lot like New Yorks in that it's on the waterfront, full of high-rises, a mix of immigrants but predominantly English-speaking...well, it used to be.



Hong Kong today is China today. If I had visited Hong Kong before the trade-over, maybe I would have seen more balding, bellied, quick-witted white guys running around in red suspenders....but when we arrive on Sunday in the financial district, everything is closed. There are no stockbroker types only thousands (and I mean thousands) of Phillipino nannies line the streets. Most of them cloistered together, squatting on the backs of their feet and sharing homemade dishes they've brought for lunch. The bus terminal is the predominant feature of the financial district on weekends, as it is full of more workers coming in or going out to visit their families. Most interesting is the presence of multiple merchants, who's job seems to consist of supplying cartons and taping up goods, which -God Bless these girls-they are sending back to their families. I ask one of them, where are all the philipino men and she half-smiles and says she thinks most of them are back home gambling or drinking, so the women go away to support their families but I would suppose also to escape a lifetime of misery with a catholic view on divorce.





I am impressed with the work ethic of these women and shocked how many there are all over Hong Kong. This is a place that eats up people and I don't think there's too much interest in the individual or protection for the underclasses (specifically, non-chinese, non-male underclasses).
I also realize how good the Philipino nannies in the UK or the US have it, compare to Singapore, where they are literally not allowed out of the house unaccompanied, the Middle East, where they are prosecuted if they attempt to self-protect themselves from physical abuse, or Hong Kong, where I'm sure there is also prevalent innapropriate sexual behaviour as well as --- monetary treatment and no laws they know can protect them. As is so often the case, traveling abroad makes me grateful for where and who I am...but it also makes me want to help those I see, who are not so lucky.

Well, enough dark philosophizing - this is a travel column after all!

After our brief sojourn through the travel district, we take the boat tour around the harbors. There are no buildings over a century old, with the exception of thePost Office, now a bank and the charming Bank of China, which is a fascinating version of the Asian take on Art Deco.





Like everyone else in the world, I've seen Hong Kong in photos and on t.v., but I was expecting there to be some sort of historical district or atleast section where all the embassies would be located, Sommerset Maughm's old haunts, etc. However, new doesn't mean boring and as we are on our tour, we are shown the many buildings built with holes running through them. It would seem this is common Chinese business practice, as it is good feng-shui (supposedly the wind-demons can then fly through the building rather than into it). There is one, which is so large, it looks like an orwellian super-town, with a strange perfect circle cut through the middle of what appear to be three apartment blocks holding wall.

Other fun themes seem to include a hollywood blvd. style stars of chinese cinema boardwalk and numerous Kowloon Bay options. Exausted from walking the island, circling the island and going under the island (in the excellent new subway), we decide to take a trolley back to our hotel. Proper Trolley Cars run up and down Hong Kong and add a bit of fun, flavor and deathwish to any pedestrians day.



As nightfall engulfs us, Hong Kong comes alive. A city with not much daytime architectural rarities, Hong Kong glitters and shines with ebullient excitement at night. Everything is a neon day-glow paradise and one begins to realize that the entire town is made of hip restaurants and bustling nightlife. Although our first night, we just wandered around MongKok, making a point of getting lost as much as possible and seeing what we could discover. The second night, however, I'd recommend any traveller repeat. The second night, we went on the Victoria Peak tram, which is an uphill monorail that takes one to the highest point in Hong Kong (Victoria Peak). It is stunning by night and covered with fun restaurants representing all price ranges. There is also (as is mandatory in Asia) shopping with an indoor mall attached to the tram station.




The next day, life isn't quite as fun as we try to cross the many uncrossable corners and battle the waves of people with our stroller. However, our lives change as we sit down in one of the many reflexology rooms and feel as our whole bodies are altered including sinus relief all from these well trained professionals rubbing our feet. If you haven't experienced reflexology, it's a bit more than rubbing, they have terrible torture techniques served to the balls of your feet and are able to 'snap' each toe with their fingers...but in the end, all of it will leave you healthier and happier and only 5 dollars lighter!

Well, you can't talk about Hong Kong and not talk about shopping,...so, now you know why we really needed the reflexology...

Hong Kong supposedly has the best fake handbags and everything else in the world. I did see a chain of boutique stores openly selling knock-off handbags. However, I was unable to find one bag made of real leather the whole time and after an afternoon perusing 'lady market' unsuccessfully and Kowloon market with relative success. I realized that you can find everything you might ever want in Kowloon. It just depends what street it is on...there is a shag carpeting street, a bathroom tiling street, a plastic pool toys street, a paper lantern street, among numerous others.




The real values in Hong Kong are in real goods, which have been marked down and food's value is also great. This whole trip we gorged ourselves for atleast one meal a day on quality sushi and sashimi and never wound up paying more than 50 dollars a night, including wine, beer, drinks,etc. In fact, it would more likely be 20 dollars. Don't get me wrong, HK is still a town built on expat expense accounts and if you want your 25 dollar martini, you'll find it along with a 5 course fushion credit card bill, if that's what you are looking for...but Hong Kong has something for everyone. Cheap, expensive, glam, seedy, young, middle aged, old, mid-life crisis, fast lane or bossa nova. It's a great weekend trip and a great place to be single or young and married.

What I think might be hard in Hong Kong is to be a young family or single and middle aged (atleast as a man). Like in many places in Asia, as a white female, I tend to get more than usual heterosexual attention from 'a jury of my peers', but this is the first time I've pushed a stroller and still gotten this much unwanted attention.

Yes, Hong Kong as a tourist destination is as great as everyone says it is...but I'm not sure how great it actually is to live there....as a tourist.

Marvellous Macau Most Underrated City in the World

Well, those of you, who have heard of Macau, have probably already been notified it's a dirty, lame, poor man's Vegas-style slum...but you know me, I want to go everywhere....so, I figured a day trip from Hong Kong would be a perfect option. If it was so terrible, why were there ferries running every hour?


As we swish through the Harbor in our Hydrofoil, we pass signs like 'the SANDS' and 'Lucky's' and many other gambling dens. I am impressed there is even a man-made volcano and temple complex, which it turns out are both part of a gambling emporium! This IS NOT the Macau, I've come to see...I'm from the States, so I can get free drinks, chain smoke and buy lotto tickets anywhere I want to...the Macau, I've come to see...is the Macau nobody hears about.

I want the old town Macau, which is incredibly charming. We have low - if any expectations and I figure Old Town Macau is going to be like the Vegas strip before they renovated everything...instead...

It is a beautifully preserved, immaculately clean colonial village. Don't get me wrong, Old Town Macau probably takes up 1/4 of Macau and the rest is casinos and the seedy underlife that comes with them. However, this small part of Macau is most definitely worth the trip.



Our 5 dollar cab drops us off in front of the Town Hall and we walk down the cobbled streets of Largo Senado past the old Sisters of Mercy Hospital, the old banks, the classically Portuguese colonial monastery and numerous churches and cathedrals.



After perusing a mix of Starbucks, KFC, ancient Cantonese, and young hawkers, we see the ideal spot for an authentic lunch. Long Kei noodle house has been around for a couple hundred years and at first sight looks like a small temple with caligraphied wooden signs hanging outside and curtains blowing out of the windows. There is quite a line to get in but just like in NY Chinese restaurants the 'get em in, turn em out' method works quickly and we are seated in no time. The menu includes a great deal of animals I had never contemplated eating before...plates of chicken feet and slithering eel glide past our table. I'm not really sure what to order and start slow with chicken, pork noodles and a small Congee. I've never had Congee before and it is a delightful surprise. Incredibly warming and tasty, the kind of meal I'd imagine would be a dream on a freezing morning in mountainous China. Our child orders a plate of 'noodle', which indeed turns out to be the world's largest single noodle on a plate (Long Kei's specialty is noodles after all).



The rest of the afternoon, we sightsee the few sights there are to see. We see the beautiful Opera House, the State Library (most of which is just a new library, but we sweet talk the librarian into showing us what's left of the original owner's rooms), quite a few catholic churches and one street-side budhist temple. Macau is no Paris, but it's still worth a day trip. What surprised me most about old town Macau wasn't it's colonial architecture but that it was incredibly clean. The streets were spotless, the people were very friendly and not at all pushy, which somehow after all my international China-town experiences as well as Hong Kong, I was expecting. Yes, I'd go back in a second and this time, I'd try the eel and porcupine fry-up.

Portuguese New Years!

So, it was the day after christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring not even a mouse! Oh, how I wish there was even a mouse! London in December is abysmal. I couldn't take it. The sun was gone. The people were gone. The commerce was gone. The good programming was gone. All signs of life as we knew it had ended and all that remained was...Carry On films, far too many left-overs and my rambuctious child desperate to get out and play NOW (and by the way, it's always now).

I could feel our happy little nest veering towards a Bergman climax.So,we did what lots of loving families do when they're at home having bonding time, we left! Dec. 27, buy a ticket. Dec 28, board a plane!

After the headlines of the last year, Portugal was not my first choice as a parent...but we avoided the Algarve (quite frankly, I'm from Florida and the thought of having to PAY to watch fat white people on the beach is where I draw the line). Instead, we did a lastminute holiday 'in Lisbon'. As I learned from our Dublin Adventures (see blog), 'in Lisbon' means 'almost in Spain'.

Luckily for us, Lisbon turned out to be a dump! Upon arrival in the airport, I found myself eyeballing everyone mostly because they were eyeballing my child...but I realized (I hope) they were actually checking to see it wasn't the girl from the headlines but one is never sure...

We picked up our car and drove out to our resort in Sintra, which as it turns out is the STAR of Portugal!!! It's INCREDIBLY charming. In fact, it is THE charming town in Portugal!

Upon arrival, I keep thinking I am in Boca Raton. It's all pink gated golf communities and little red men speaking german or english wandering around with shorts hidden under their bellies...

but all that changes dramatically when you near the old town of Sintra Centro. As the car winds up through the tree lined mountains, one feels like one is being whisked away to a magical medieval principality. Sintra's old town surrounds the Sintra Castle (which dates back to the birth of Portugal as an independant society). One sees a heavy moorish influence in the beautiful recurring patterned tiled floors and walls, courtyards and particularly in the kitchen, where if you look up, you might feel you are in Star Wars. The kitchen is essentially two large funnels sliced open at the top opening directly to the sky.

On the other hand, you are frequently reminded that you are in a European kingdom by the beds in ormolu and covered in small shrine-like paintings, the heavy baroque wooden chests and flat proto-renaissance portraits.


disclaimer:I do not know these people. They wouldn't move, it serves them right.



Compared to other European capitals and palaces, Sintra isn't that great...and all the tiling seems well, a little bit more downscale brooklyn-italian than Kalifate Spain. UNTIL you get to...surprise, the library. A handpainted wood paneled ceiling, and walls with large and beautifully done blue and white tiles telling stories of the history, conquests and trades of Portugals great sea-faring knights in the new world.




After the palace, we go for a bit of lunch at the Cafe de Paris across the street. It's in a row of restaurants next to the palace, so I have VERY low expectations but am happily surprised to receive a delicious meal for a decent price and brilliant customer service! We see quite quickly that like most latin countries, the Portuguese love children and our waiter shares stories of his children with us, after handing our daughter a few busying snacks. We wander the charming stores. Thick horse blankets, majollicaware, as well as the customary kitch kitchen tourist stuff are all up for sale starting at 1 euro and the antique shops are shockingly well valued.



We go home and slumber that wonderful siesta that one can only sleep in hot countries. One where nothing matters and when you wake up you know that there might be the smell of garlic or saffron inviting you into the kitchen and something cold made in a blender will invite the blue hour to linger.

The next day we decided to go to Lisbon.

What a mistake.

Lisbon is dodgy.

Everyone in Lisbon is dodgy.

I keep feeling like I'm in Central America except... this isn't what happened after the Spaniards abandoned the country. The prices in Lisbon reflect first world EU prices but the service, cleanliness, food, dodginess...do not. It doesn't help that we've made two cardinal sins. One: DO NOT DRIVE A CAR TO OR IN LISBON. The whole town is built like that one windy death-trap block you keep seeing in movies about San Francisco!!! Secondly, DO NOT -NEVER-TAKE A STROLLER TO LISBON! Again, everyone was very nice but there are NO Sidewalks. THE WHOLE TOWN IS BUILT LIKE THAT ONE WINDY DEATH TRAP BLOCK IN SAN FRANCISCO!



However, positive attitude, we thought...well, if it's tough to walk, let's take a bus tour. So, we hop on the red tram and just a block from our start, we are notified there has been an accident involving a tram front of us and they have to wait for the authorities to come and for the vehicles to move. It could be 15 minutes or 2 hours, one never knows, says our operator. So, after about 10 minutes, we and the Germans (who obviously also have little faith in the portuguese way of doing things) are given our refunds and hop off. I might note that the fifteen french folks stayed on the train (I guess it's all what you're used to). Just as we part ways and are mid-street cross. The cops show up, the cars are moved and all of us carrying various wares, backpacks, strollers, canes, etc. hop back on the tram!


This was a foolish decision because no more than 500 metres from this spot, we stop again and are about to go through the same scenario! I ask the driver if these sorts of accidents are that common in Lisbon and he responds without missing a beat that they usually occur about 5 times a day!

So, we stay on the tram with our frenchy pals, who are actually taking photos of themselves in the tram waiting as part of the adventure. I have now named them 'Bronzes fait Portugal' (ref. to france's version of Natl Lampoons)! The rest of the day is spent 'enjoying' our two hour tour (which as I just mentioned took the entire rest of the day).


Tuesday and Wednesday, we spent recovering from Lisbon, swimming in the gorgeous Sintra Grande's Pool and wandering over to super charming Cais Cais (pronounced Cash Cash-perhaps because you've got to have Cash Cash to go to all the restaurants there).


cais cais


Cais Cais is an old cobbled seaside fisherman's town, which now has quite a few streets full of charming restaurants. A Brazilian style sushi and Italian Fisherman's restaurant (same restaurant) is where we go for our lunch and it is fantastic at 10 pounds for all you can eat sushi made to the chef's taste in front of you. Everyone in the restaurant and I think most of Cais Cais is Brazilian, which is what inspires us to eat dinner at the whole-in-the-wall family Churrascurro buffet that evening. For only 8 Euros each (including an acceptable glass of wine), it's an absolute ball and so Brazilian: there's widescreen football matches during our meal as well as waiters trying to entice my child with all sorts of flan concoctions.

more cais cais casbah...

Thursday, we'd promised ourselves to give Lisbon the old college try again. Maybe without a car and following the guidebook, things might be better. I was wrong. We start out at Pastetto's, a cafe which serves dried out pastries and little sand cookies but has great people watching on a bustling square. Well, if I have to feel like I'm in Latin America, atleast this feels like Buenos Aires!

Back to the tourism: just five minutes walk, we pass through the human den of beggars into Sao Vicenzo's beautiful red-raw interiors. What an incredible church. We, then, take a tram up to the Castello, which everyone has recommended.

WHAT A JIP! The Castello is just a shell. So what. Yeah, great view. Was it worth the hour tram ride? No.


typical wine bar in Alfama (if only it were as nice outside)


But hey, maybe we're hungry. We hit a charming blue and white tiled wine bar/cafe for a quick lunch (but quick is not a portuguese word, so by now...two more hours have passed). All the Portuguese have raved about Alfama as the best district to visit. In my opinion, this would be the equivalent of a New Yorker telling tourists not to miss Harlem. Harlem is the best place to see in New York.

Alfama...or as Bette Davis would say...'what a dump'!
We spend the rest of the afternoon treacherously winding down dingy back alleys visiting the only significant sites we can find...the churches, because we've now realized that aside from the Coach Museum, churches are the only historic sites worth seeing in Lisbon! We go from the Igreia Sao Tiao to the Igreia de Santa Luzia to the Igreia de Sao Miguel to the Igreia de Santo Estevao. I never want to see another Igreia again in my life.
Alfama is beautiful sign, couldn't fit garbage mountain in shot


What I remember most is...playing soccer with a bunch of youths, so that I could pass with the stroller into what turned out to be a locked church, the sign stating Alfama was becoming even more beautiful next to a 10 ft high mountain of garbage bags, far too many cats and my husband deciding to change our baby in front of a large number of teenage gang members! Bad choice, I'd say...

I will also never forget that church, which they were standing next to, in their chanty village was covered in gold. I mean the walls were gold, the altar, the statues, the surrounds were covered in 14 K new world wealth while there were stores down the street that sold gas for heating their houses! As a christian, this sort of thing usually ticks me off...but hey, it's Lisbon. Maybe it's better in the church, because I suppose if you spread the wealth with the corruption and sexism, it'd all wind up back in one's person's pocket after not too long...

So, thankfully by now, it's nightfall, so we can leave...well, we hop on the first tram we see and wind up in Baixa, which by the way, if I were you, is the only part worth seeing. Just go to Baixa, wander the streets and have coffee in as many cafes as you can...otherwise, save your money and go to Porto or Madeira! I realize that I may have sounded quite vitriolic in the last paragraph, so I won't tell you the incident where I actually took a photo of the man sitting next to us because I am convinced he was either a pedi or someone who killed in the past (maybe for pay, maybe not). I wish I was kidding during this last bit...

Okay, enough negativity, we're back at our fab pad, complete with our own supersized balcony and mojitos and dinner at a Michelin restaurant in Sintra (it seems there are a few in Sintra and Cais Cais).




Mafra was the only cultural place we hadn't seen and Mafra Palace is worth the trip!! It's so weird and wonderful! Truly a bizarre Royal Icing Supersized Megalomaniacal dream Palacio.
Imagine if Barnum and Bailey made Stately Homes.

Mafra Palace - could only get 1/3 in the shot!


Sadly, after all these centuries, there wasn't that much furniture left...but it still had a phenomenal hunting room and the king's chambers and the sanctuary! Not to mention the world famous Riding School. My goodness! Not so stately as say, Versailles or the other Palais of similar times but still so much larger in scale..rambling. This house could be the inspiration for the house in Great Expectations.

Don't go to Portugal and miss it!

Our last day, we did my favorite thing. We had lunch at the Hotel Lawrence in Sintra. Sintra was the only town in all of Portugal that Lord Byron liked and that is the hotel where he stayed. I'm with him!

Must do list:
Sintra Palace and hamlet
Cais Cais dinner
Mafra Palace
Riding lesson at Mafra Equestrian Center
Swimming
Golfing
Tennis
Shopping at Lidl

Must not do list:
Lisbon

ich bin kein berliner but I could definitely live there!

Wow is Berlin COOL! If cities have sex, then Berlin is definitely masculine. My husband thinks it's because of all the modern architecture but I never got that vibe in LA and nothing there is older than Andy Rooney!

We took the baby with us, so the cool factor is usually lost right there...but Berlin's got it 'goin on'. Despite being entirely rebuilt with no money by the allies or worse in the political oppressionist style of the communist block, Berlin still has incredibly style and an edge to it's architecture. It's black and metal, sleek and dominating or in the places that LUCKILY the communists didn't want to waste money on...charming art nouveau buildings in Prenslauerberg that are being re-done properly rather than torn down and replaced with cheap concrete block.

We arrive at Schoenefeld Airport in the old East Berlin and as an American, I can't help but say 'Hello Berlin'. It's still somehow exotic and I feel like I'm breaking the rules...which I know is silly but I can't help it. Not to mention, everything near and in this airport is absolutely as choc-a-commy-block as it gets! One really feels like they could still find wire taps in the subway. However, Germany is still Germany and the trains are efficient, clean and on time.

We climb out of the all modern, clean handicap accessable u-bahn at Potsdam Platz and look for our hotel, which is basically at what used to be the ole' check point Charlie. Today, you can actually pay some young guy wearing a military uniform a couple of Euros to have your picture taken with him in front of what's left of the wall. Things of importance to Germans in hotels (following cleanliness) are breakfast, sauna and if you're lucky pool. Occasionally, there's also some sort of ruhe rauhm (the quiet room) and thalasso of sorts...we were lucky enough to stay in a hotel with all of the above. Unfortunately, there is not much else around Potsdam Platz, so when I find myself ridden with the decision of the 35 euro buffet breakfast or eating at Dunkin Donuts (a place I DO NOT frequent in the USA). Dunkin's it is and I happily find myself getting a fasching donut as well as a mond(sweet poppy seed)donut, not something you'd generally find in the Dunkin donuts next to Tuppins fishin'n'huntin.



Although we've come to see friends and dabble in business (as much as anyone can do business in germany on the weekend), we were hoping there might be atleast one little German christmas market. The big ones are in Ulm, Stuttgart, Nurnberg...but we are sweetly surprised to discover the entire city is taken over by little villages and fake tiroler huts selling gluhwein, sausages with real meat (sorry english folks but those things you call sausage are made of sand and pig's nails), home made wooden ornaments...some carved as well as painstakingly painted. Like any fair, many of these have the mandatory number of kitsch and 'arts and craps'- you know, candles that dead heads always have in college, or fake hollowed out candles, or those dreadful fake rose quartz lights...but in amongst the junky glass ornaments and chilean sweaters, there's always the leathersmiths and the brush man who sells, literally just every brush under the sun, which he and his family have actually made and will last you your lifetime.

Saturday morning, we wander the Ku'dam (Kufurstendam is the original name meaning Prince/Elector's hunting embankment, but Kudam pronounced in this way is much more visually entertaining, as it is the main haute shopping area and Ku Dam would mean Dam of the Cows). Ku'Dam is littered with the little huts and after a round of shopping Germany's answer to Selfridge's called the Kaufhaus Des Wests (literally, Shop of the West-as a little 'in your face' to the folks at the border), I am exhausted and chilled to the bone and there is nothing better than a gluhwein!

Later in the day, we go to see the Gendarmenmarkt, which lies between the French Church and the National Theatre (Schaulspielhaus). If you are a french visitor, you'll never be home sick in Berlin. Aside from surprisingly good food, there is a Gallerie Lafayette housing various excellently priced restaurants as well as a service at the French Church. It seems there were a large amount of Hugonots, who settled in Berlin in the 18th century and a few of their descendants are still in attendance of this church.

If you're not french, don't worry there's still abstract theatre for all at the Schauspielhaus, on the other side of the Gendarmenmarkt and the Gendarmenmarkt also has a 'klein aber fein' (small but sweet) christmas market, which is charming at night. Just make sure you don't go on saturday night because despite the euro entrance fee, there are too many people to make it enjoyable. With a stroller, it was a little like someone decided to have a fiesta in King's Cross tube on a monday morning.





However, if you want an easier christmas market in Berlin, you can STILL go to the Unter den Lindenstrasse market (under the limetree street - isn't that a lovely name, always makes me think of the German Lied 'Der Linden baum'). But wait, there's more...there are still christmas markets in the Brauerei in Prenslauerberg, in old Spandau (yes, like the ballet) and there was a fantastic Austrian themed one in Potsdam Platz. Obviously, I did not make all of these, otherwise, they'd have to airlift me onto our plane--there's only so much fondue, raclette, feuerwurst, rum-punsch, chocolate crepe, grandmarnier crepe, knackwurste, lebkuchen I can eat...but I did my damnedest:).

As you can imagine, most of Saturday night was spent eating or recovering there from...Sundays in Germany usually have nothing much to talk about. As the Germans say 'toten hosen' (dead pants, a phrase meaning there's nothing going on...but you can geuss where from where this phrase may have 'arisen'). However, we were lucky it was Sunday and the Germans are digging this whole capitalist thing, so we were able to enter and shop at not only the regular stores but even Lidl, (germany's answer to the 99 cent store but oh, so much better - imagine a walmart that sold salmon, cod roe, fresh panetone...). As you can guess by the way this article is turning out...I did gain 2 kilos over christmas! It was Germany's fault, I suppose it was my own. None of my family's christmas recipes are made for less than an army...but I did manage to buy most of the items in Deutschland!

Next time we go in summer, when there's no holiday food available and next time, I'm definitely taking an architectural tour (as long as I don't discover that statue my grandfather, the count posed for naked during his grand tour -well, nobody said my family wasn't eccentric).